


Fall(ing)

by damnfancyscotch



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alive Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - Human, Angrily Pining Derek Hale, Derek and Stiles are Neighbors, F/F, F/M, Fall AU, Horror Movie Reenactment, Just So Many Misunderstandings, Leaf piles, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Misunderstandings, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Derek, Oblivious Stiles, Pathetically Pining Stiles, Precious Idiot, Pumpkin Spice Lattes, Scott and Stiles are Roommates, The Whole Thing Is A Shit Show, Tumblr Prompt, by derek, meet-not-so-cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-25
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-23 05:03:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4864163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnfancyscotch/pseuds/damnfancyscotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles LOVES Fall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall(ing)

**Author's Note:**

> In celebration of it finally being Fall, here's something based on this [tumblr post](http://illyabucky.tumblr.com/post/98336463652/aus-that-need-to-happen-autumn-edition-i-got). I used all the prompts & tweaked them to suit my needs bc I'm me! :D
> 
> Enjoy, sweet babbies!

Stiles _loves_ Fall.

Seriously, he lives for the crisp air - just cold enough to feel but not bitter like Winter - and the leaves absolutely _everywhere_ and hot drinks and sweaters _oh my fucking god it’s time for fucking sweaters_ **_FINALLY_**. Fall is the PERFECT season. No arguments, no exceptions.

He’s gotten the weather update - _slightly overcast, a crisp 63 degrees, medium wind_ \- and a text from Scott - who left three hours ago because he’s a third grade teacher and has to get up at ass-o’clock to shape young minds - reading **_IT’S OCTOBER!!! MOTHERFUCKING HALLELUIAH PUMPKIN FLAVORED EVERYTHING AT STARBUCKS! FALL HAS ARRIVED! THERE IS A GOD AND SHE IS GOOD!_**

Those are really the only reasons he’s not extremely frustrated as he scrambles to get ready for work.

They’d only moved back to their parents’ after college in May and into this place two weeks ago so all their shit is still in fucking boxes because really, they’re adults and have jobs and pay bills, yes, but they’re still practically teenagers. Normally not an issue - today though, huge issue. He’s got to get to the library before Janet does because _fucking Janet_ is a chair-stealing butt munch with halitosis and a compulsion to tattle.

Not that he’s bitter or whatever. It’s just a chair…

Okay, it’s not _just_ a chair. It’s _his fucking chair_.

He’s grumbling under his breath about the chair and trying to find his red knit scarf, the one that his mom made, but the only scarf he sees is sitting at the top of the Goodwill box. It’s not a bad scarf, but he doesn’t really like the color on him and Scott doesn’t do scarves. He’s waffling before he glances at his phone, sees the time, _fuck_ , and grabs the ugly scarf anyways.

He locks up, jumps in his Jeep, and jets off downtown. He pulls into the lot and sees that Janet’s stupid fucking ugly ass Mustang isn’t there. He whoops with joy, jumping out of the car and almost dancing toward the front door.

As he crosses the lot, he notices a guy - oh wow he is _puh-retty_ \- who’s wearing only a button down shirt and jeans, no coat or scarf, but nice enough shoes and his clothes look clean so maybe not homeless? It’s not really that cold but the wind has definitely picked up and the guy is shivering a little. He looks like he’s waiting for someone, head ducked down and arms crossed, but Stiles doesn’t know why he can’t wait inside the library where it’s warmer. If he _is_ homeless, then he probably doesn’t have many other clothes…

Stiles _almost_ walks past him but stops, unraveling his scarf and holding out to the guy with a smile… which earns him an incredibly blank look with a slight tinge of ‘scowl’ thrown in.

“Here.” He shakes the scarf at the guy. “You look cold, dude. Take it.”

The guy stares at him then grunts, “What.” Not a question. A statement.

“If you’re cold, you can have my scarf. It’s not a big deal or anything, dude. I was gonna give it to Goodwill, honestly, had it in the box already, but I couldn’t find any other scarf because I was in too much of a hurry to get out the door so.” He shrugs, feeling really self-conscious all of a sudden and god, he should’ve just ignored the weirdo and gone inside. Is he always this chatty - wait, dumb question, he knows the answer is ‘yes.’

Cold fingers on his hand break him out of his thought spiral and he looks up the slightest bit - same height, very sexy - into hellaciously pretty eyes. The guy pulls the scarf from his fingers and wraps it around his neck twice, tying the ends together in some totally cool looking knot. The strange chartreuse shade of the scarf actually looks _magnificent_ on him - his eyes going from pretty to spectacular.

“Thanks.” The guy, though definitely not smiling, is less scowly and his voice is less sharp and oh god, is that a _very_ tiny hint of a lisp on the ‘s’ _jesus crunchy crisp how precious_.

Stiles smiles and waves it away as he starts toward the door again. “No problem man. Have a good day. Uh, Happy Fall.” He gets inside before he can say anything else, thankfully. He’s notorious for embarrassing himself in front of attractive people - Lydia, Danny, so _so_ many others - and slides right into _his_ chair. _Victoryyyyy_ \- he almost sings it.

He totally sings it.

The only thing that makes his morning even better than it already is: Janet’s face when she walks in and sees where he’s sitting. He smiles sweetly at her, _so_ saccharine, and starts checking in the pile of books in front of him.

_Stiles: 1_

_Janet: 0_

He may or may not let out an evil laugh.

Okay, he totally does.

~

Derek _kinda_ hates Fall.

He’s standing in front of the fucking library at 9 in the damn morning and shivering in just a button up and jeans. But now… he has a _scarf_ and it’s from his new neighbor

He toys idly with the fabric, twisting it over his fingers. He tries to call the guy’s name to his mind. Something with an S… He ducks his head, trying to hide his smile, even though there’s no one else around him. His neighbor is _cute_.

His smile drops as he remembers the last 12 hours and he huffs out a breath that he _swears_ he can see.

Derek _hates_ being cold. It’s only in the 60s but Fall weather means the winds are capricious as fuck and he’d locked his fucking keys in the house and didn’t bring a jacket because he was gonna drive anyway and  _ughhhh_ …

He hears the sound of a car screeching to a stop next to him so he pulls himself from thoughts of his misery and his very intriguing and very cute neighbor.

The window rolls down and Laura calls out, “Der! Hey, sorry I’m late.”

He leans down a little to glare at his sister before he gets into the car, shutting the door at little hard in his haste to get into the warmer air.

“Be easy on the door.” Lydia barks from the back. He glares at her too, _so_ _not_ intimidated, and aims the vents towards himself.

“You both are lucky I love you.” He grumbles, exhausted from being up so late.

“What about me?” Penelope inquires in her high, bright voice, waving her fairy wand.

“Me too!” Bryce pipes up, all enthusiasm as he throws his arms in the air, head back as far as it will go in his car seat.

Derek smiles back at them. “Of course I love you two. You’re my favorite niece and youngest nephew.”

Bryce just cheers but Penny, old enough to understand, shoots him an unimpressed look that reminds him of Lydia and says, “I’m your _only_ niece.”

He smiles. “Well, then, I guess it’s good that you’re my favorite.”

She rolls her eyes and focuses on the story book that Lydia’s pulled from a bag by her feet. They reach the elementary school first and Penny calls out her goodbyes as she slips out and walks hand-in-hand with Lydia up to the school to be checked in late. Lydia returns and they make the three minute trek to the day care to drop off Bryce.

When it’s only adults in the car, they all take a small breath and relax the slightest bit. Laura reaches over and tugs on the scarf around Derek’s neck. “Where did you get this?” She smirks and lowers her voice. “Did Jeffery give it to you?”

He gives her a hard look and says, “No, and before you ask, the date was a disaster.”

Lydia flicks his shoulder. “God, Derek, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

He scoffs. “ _Jeffrey_ is allergic to shellfish. I kissed him a couple hours into the date and his throat swelled up and he _almost_ _died_.

Laura sputters, trying to hold in laughter, and Lydia gives her wife a sharp look. “That’s not really your fault, though, honey.”

“One would think. Except…” He pulls out his phone and holds it up, displaying the text that Laura had sent him that _clearly_ states Jeffrey’s _severe_ allergy. “I definitely ate shrimp and crab for lunch, Lyds. I completely spaced.”

Laura finally lets out a loud burst of laughter. As she wipes her eyes, she asks, “So did he make it?”

“Yes,” he sighs, “I was at the hospital with the poor guy for hours and I just got home before you called. Left my jacket, locked my keys in the house so I had to jog over.” He rubs his face. “Everything is a fucking mess.”

Laura reaches over and pats his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Der. We’ll make sure you don’t die alone.”

He groans. “I don’t know if you can do that. What if I actually manage to kill someone next time? I can’t date anyone else. Everyone is in mortal danger.”

Laura shoots him a slightly sympathetic look then teases, “Are you sure? Penny’s teacher has a friend who is cute and single.”

He casts his eyes skyward. _Give me patience_ , he appeals to the universe. “You did _not_ talk to Penny’s third grade teacher about me, did you Laura?” Her silent, squinty-eyed appearance is enough to make him sigh. “It’s bad enough that I’m a disaster. I don’t need Penny’s teacher knowing about it.”

“Oh, Derek,” Lydia admonishes, “He’s a giant puppy dog. Besides, we didn't mention you by name so you don’t have to worry.”

“Meh,” Derek mumbles.

“So, if Jeffery didn’t give you the scarf, who did?” Laura asks, returning to the point. “I’ve never seen it before and it’s clearly not new.”

Derek smiles, fiddling with the fringe at the bottom. “Some guy going to the library.” He knows better than to tell them that he’s got a cute neighbor. They’ll be all over him.

Laura and Lydia coo and he kind of wants to die. Lydia is younger than him for fuck’s sake, but she makes him feel like a little brother just as much as Laura does. “What’s his name?” Laura demands to know.

“I don’t know. He gave me the scarf because I looked cold, he said.” Derek recalls the guy’s eyes, the sun catching them and turning them whiskey-bright. _Stiles_ pops into his mind and, huh, that’s right. It’s a little odd but seems to fit the guy. _Stiles_.

“Aren’t you glad I called and made you wait at the library?” Laura goads, nudging him with her elbow as they sit at a stop light.

He levels another hard look at her, thinking about the impending trip to the furniture store so they can get the new beds for the kids. “No.” As the two women cackle, he looks out the window and twists his fingers in the fringe once more, smiling a little to himself.

\-----

Stiles’ neighbor - elusive, never before seen in the flesh, _suspected to not even really exist_ neighbor - is raking leaves.

The fence dividing the properties is too tall for him to peer over, more’s the woe, because he _really_ wants to know what the neighbor looks like. Anyone that drives a sick-nasty blacked-out Camaro like the one that occupies the driveway next door has _got_ to be sexy. The car positively _oozes_ sex appeal and Stiles is _all_ _about_ appealing people.

He’s got his face pressed against the wooden slats, just barely able to make out the form of a person with broad shoulders covered in a long sleeved shirt, a beanie pulled tightly over his hair - he’s assuming Elusive Neighbor is a male? - and can see the motion and hear the sound of raking.

He’s more than a little jealous that they guy has leaves - which sounds silly, he knows - but he and Scott’s yard is ringed with fucking _pine trees_ of all things and the only thing they have as far as Fall raking needs go is pine needles and pine cones. The pine cones are _everywhere_ and they make Stiles fall every time he walks in the back yard, fucking assholes that they are.

There’s another burst of movement and Stiles curses the crafters of the fence because the space is so small between the boards that he can barely fucking see through it and he’s a nosy little shit, okay? He knows he could just go onto his porch and look _over_ the fence but what if Elusive Neighbor sees him? Embarrassing, yes, and possibly frightening if the guy looks over and sees Stiles just _watching_ him. He’s not a weirdo. Honest.

He’s about to give it up as a lost cause when Elusive Neighbor’s back becomes centered in the tiny space. He stops raking, tosses the tool aside, and just fucking _collapses_ face first into the impressively large pile of leaves, a rich, deep laugh ringing through the air.

Stiles has to bite his lip to keep from bursting out laughing himself because it is fucking hilarious, a grown ass man jumping so gleefully into a leaf pile, and also incredibly endearing, especially with _that_ _laugh_ all bright and happy. Elusive Neighbor then becomes Adorable Neighbor and Stiles turns back to finish cleaning out the shed, leaving _Adorable_ Neighbor to his leaf-wallowing joy.

A couple hours later, Stiles pulls into the parking lot of Anderson Pumpkin Farm and throws the Jeep in park, turning to Scott who’s almost vibrating in the passenger seat.

“Okay, rules: No bogarting each other’s pumpkin. No stealing pumpkins from kids.” Stiles states as he gets out of the Jeep.

Scott nods and slams the door, coming around to stand next to him. “Agreed. First man to get the best pumpkin gets to make the seeds.” He holds his hand out and Stiles shakes it, sealing the deal.

“Okay. Ready, set, go!” The two twenty two year olds run as fast as they can toward the entrance gates of the farm. They slip through a space next to a group of babbling children, some of whom may be Scott’s students judging by the cheers as they pass, and split off from each other, searching through the rows and rows of pumpkins.

Stiles slows to a brisk pace, eyes scanning over the different gourds, searching for the perfect roundness – _that one, no, it’s flat on the other side, damn_ – good stalk length – _damn, that one is perfectly shaped but the stalk is broken down to a nub, no no no…_

Then, he sees it.

The _Perfect_ Pumpkin.

Just as he reaches out for it, another hand bumps his and he looks up into _hellll-o beautiful_ Hot Grumpy Guy’s eyes.

“Well hey you.” Stiles chirps, smiling at seeing the scarf he’d given the other guy tied in another complicated knot under The Guy’s stubbly chin.

The Guy gives him a half-smile, let left corner of his lips quirking up. “Hello.”

Stiles reaches for the pumpkin again and The Guy does too.

Now The Guy is frowning and Stiles gives him the best Me-First smile in his arsenal.

“Sorry,” he doesn’t sounds sorry at all and he knows it, “but this is my pumpkin.”

The Guy shakes his head. “No, this is Bryce’s pumpkin.”

Stiles blinks and asks, “Are you talking about yourself in third person?”

The Guy looks at him like he’s the stupidest person in the world, which is not a new look for Stiles. “No,” he says slowly, like Stiles may not understand him, “this pumpkin is for my _nephew_ whose name is Bryce.”

Stiles smiles again and replies, “Well, I’m sure Bryce would do fine with another pumpkin. This one is _mine_.”

The Guy shakes his head again, taking a firm hold on the pumpkin. “I don’t think so.”

Okay, no more Mr. Nice Stiles. He takes a firmer grip on the pumpkin. “This is the perfect pumpkin and I’m going to be taking it home.”

“This pumpkin is perfect for my nephew and he’ll be the one carving it.” The Guy pulls slightly on the gourd with a sound that’s almost a growl. Oooh, that should _not_ be so sexy.

He nods at the fabric around The Guy’s neck. “Hey, man, I gave you my scarf.” Stiles grits through his bared teeth.

“You were going to give it to _Goodwill_. I’m not really all that touched by your generosity, especially since you won’t let me have this pumpkin to give to a child.” Hot Grumpy Guy hisses through a tight, white smile that is half freaking Stiles out - because seriously, only serial killers look like that - and 100% turning him on - _aaannndd_ apparently he has a thing for serial killers now, so that’s new, hm… may be time to reevaluate his life…

“I bet he’s not even gonna be the one that carves it!” He blurts.

“What the hell does that matter?” Hot Grumpy Guy gripes back. Stiles contemplates if he’s actually breaking the rules here, but he’s not taking the pumpkin from the actual kid so he doesn’t think he is… hm…

The string of thoughts distracts him enough that Hot Grumpy Guy manages to snatch the pumpkin from his hold. Stiles squawks, has a flickering moment of bizarre clarity where he _really_ contemplates his life choices, hears Scott say _Dude, no_ , doesn’t listen, and _lunges_ for _his_ pumpkin.

He falls flat on his stomach as Hot Grumpy Guy jumps back and out of his reach. All of the air being knocked from his lungs sorta snaps him out of his idiotic frustration, even as he’s gasping painfully. He feels someone roll him over and he gasps again, shuddering in discomfort.

Scott’s face is hovering over him when he opens his eyes and the look he’s giving Stiles is one of loving exasperation - not an unusual one to see on Scott’s face. He does it all the time. Stiles is a handful. He’s aware of his short-comings. Mostly.

Scott shakes his head and asks, “You okay, buddy?”

Stiles wheezes, “He got it, didn’t he?”

Scott looks up, presumably toward the check-out line, and winces before looking back down. “Yeah. He’s being incredibly smug about it too. Sorry man.”

Stiles scowls and pouts at the same time. “My perfect pumpkin.” He whines pathetically.

Scott smoothes his hand over Stiles’ forehead in a gesture that Stiles is sure Scott uses on his students. “I know, I know. But hey,” his tone is bright - Stiles lets himself get pulled in, “I found a couple of really good looking pumpkins. I bet they’re prettier than the other one.”

Stiles sighs and sits up, wincing slightly. He’s gonna have a bruise, he just knows it. He looks at the two pumpkins sitting next to them and squints. “Yeah, actually, these are pretty good looking - Jessica Lange levels of attractiveness, I’d say.”

Scott grins at him. “Agreed.” He seems cheered by Stiles’ cooperation as he helps him to his feet.

Hating to spoil Scott’s mood, but still needing to say it, he grumbles, “I mean, the other one was full on Streep,” he throws his hands up when Scott frowns at him, “but I am totally satisfied and _grateful_ for our pumpkins that you found.”

Scott rolls his eyes and hands one of the pumpkins to Stiles to carry. As they head toward the checkout line, he says, “I vote we change his name from Hot Grumpy Guy,” of course Stiles had told him what he’d been calling the guy - they’re bros, that’s how it works, “to Obnoxious Asshole Guy.”

Stiles laughs then coughs because apparently his lungs aren’t quite ready for Scott’s double-edged intelligent _and_ immature humor but he still smiles. “You are my soul mate, dude, I swear.”

Scott makes a _schmoopy_ face at him and coos, “You say the sweetest things, _babe_.”

“You love me and you know it.” He declares as he places his pumpkin on the counter.

They get some apple bread - why do they put such things by the register, he has no impulse control when it comes to baked goods dammit - and he feels a little better by the time they get home.

After turning the back porch into a pumpkin massacre, they proudly place their Jack-O-Lanterns on the front porch. Stiles starts cleaning up the back porch as Scott puts the pumpkin seeds in the oven.

Thirty minutes later, they’re crashed out on the couch, watching reruns of Friends with the baked seeds, warmed slices of apple bread, and cocoa on the table in front of them.

It’s almost perfect.

And it would be totally perfect… _if Obnoxious Asshole Guy hadn’t stolen his fucking pumpkin_.

Stiles thinks he may dream about it.

(He does. He _still_ loses the pumpkin.

Who loses in _their_ _own_ dreams?

Stiles. That’s who. Goddammit.

At least in his dream, he gets to angrily make out with the guy.

It’s pretty hot.)

~

Derek pulls up to his parents’ house right behind Laura and Lydia, still reeling from the pumpkin patch fiasco. He gets out, lugging the last minute “I’m sorry, we forgot to get a Bryce a pumpkin, could you please get it for us, we love you” pumpkin in a bag. He hears Laura proclaim in a deep voice, “I crave cider!” He sees her grabbing Penny’s hands and swinging her daughter up onto her hip.

Lydia rolls her eyes as she lifts Bryce out of the car seat. “You Hales have the biggest sweet tooths, I swear.” She frowns as she places Bryce on her hip. “Sweet teeth? Tooths…” She mumbles.

Laura laughs and spins in a circle, making Penny giggle brightly. “I think it works either way. Doesn’t matter what you call it: _sugar is all_.”

Derek echoes her as she continues, “ _Sugar is life_.”

Lydia jiggles Bryce and coos, “You’re gonna grow up and like veggies, right Bryce?”

He grins and says brightly, “Somethin’ smells good, Mommy.”

Penny chirps, “It’s for caramel apples! Oh Mama,” she pats Laura’s arm, “I want a caramel apple, _please_!”

Laura grins at Lydia as they all head toward the door. She puts a hand to her forehead and intones in a divinatory voice, “The legacy continues…”

Lydia scowls at her wife. “You are all ridiculous.” She doesn’t knock, just pushes the door open and calls out, “We’re here!”

Talia calls, “Out back!”

They all trump through the house and out into the sunroom where Talia has plastic table cloths laid down and all the carving tools they’ve been using for years.

“Hey losers,” Cora drawls from her spot on the floor. The kids wriggle to be let down and launch themselves at her. She wraps them up tightly in her arms and rolls backwards, making the kids squeal with delight.

“Hello my darlings,” Talia greets them, hugging Laura, running her hand over Derek’s hair, and cupping Lydia’s cheek. “Start carving, I’ve got to finish the treats.” She heads back toward the kitchen.

“Where’s Dad?” Laura asks, hanging her coat on a hook by the door.

“He’s on his way.” Cora says as she sits back up, pulling Bryce to sit up next to her. “Wanna make your pumpkin, buddy?”

“Yes!” He states, holding his hands out. Derek pulls the pumpkin that ruined _everything_ from the burlap bag and places it in front of Bryce. The kid pokes at it for about ten minutes with markers before getting bored and going to play with Erica and Boyd’s sons, James and Zander.

Derek doesn’t say anything but Erica nudges him and gives him a questioning look when he scowls at the frankly kind of funny face that Bryce has managed to draw on his pumpkin. He shakes his head and she sighs, rolling her eyes before turning and accepting a cup of cider from Talia.

He supposes, as he’s carving one of the extra pumpkins Talia has for the main walkway, he could explain why he’s being weird, could say that he’s met someone he’d like to kiss until they can’t think and also trip up a flight of stairs. Stiles is thoroughly fucking with him and doesn’t even realize it, which is the worst part.

He wondered at the time if Stiles had given him the scarf that day because Derek is his neighbor, but there had been no recognition of any kind on Stiles’ face then or earlier in the day, barring the whole recognition from the scarf gifting.

Most nights, Stiles gets out of bed, leaves all the lights on as he trails through his house in his underwear, grabs food, then stumbles back to bed and the cute idiot doesn’t have curtains and the blinds are always up.

It’s not like Derek’s _stalking_ him - they just happen to live on the facing sides of their houses and happen to be vertical at the same time. At this point, they’ve been neighbors for three weeks and Derek still thinks that Stiles has no idea that they live next door to each other. Oblivious attractive idiot that he is…

Derek supposes he could also explain his frustration by saying that he’s bitter that Stiles is already in a relationship with _Scott_ \- who is apparently fucking perfect, judging by how often he hears Stiles exclaiming his virtues and singing goofy things like ‘hey Scotty you’re such a hottie’ to him when they’re in the back yard and that fucking tender forehead touch in the pumpkin patch? Their relationship is sickening in its adorableness.

He zones off while he’s scooping out pumpkin guts thinking about how flushed Stiles had been, the color high in his cheeks from irritation and the chill in the air, tuft of hair peeking from the front of his beanie, his long-fingered hands clutching tightly to the stem of the pumpkin, breath harsh and fast, heartbeat hammering against Derek’s knuckles - his next scoop of pumpkin innards is a _little_ forceful.

It hits the ceiling.

Everyone looks at the clump, watches as it slowly detaches itself and plops back to the ground, before turning their eyes to Derek. He can feel how hot his face is but he just blinks, clears his throat, and goes back to scooping.

The only thing that saves him from being interrogated is James and Bryce falling into the koi pond as Zander laughs hysterically. He and Penny stay seated as the other adults all run to the trio of guffawing boys. They share a look, roll their eyes, and keep scooping. She really is his favorite niece.

\-----

In an attempt to not be a total hermit, Derek lets Isaac drag him out to all sorts of things. The Third Annual Beacon Hills Zombie Crawl that the hospital uses as a fundraiser for the children’s wing is the most recent in a long line of odd outings. He goes because he can’t say no to Isaac, kids, or charity - he’s not actually a monster, despite the extremely convincing make-up.

He’s let Isaac get really creative and has “wounds” on his face, colored contacts - even though his eyes are irritated as fuck, he suspects the blood-shot look is probably working for his make up - and scruffy but not overly torn up old clothes. Isaac may have gone a little overboard with the fake blood but Derek doesn’t really care. He’s not trying to impress anyone.

He gets a lot of compliments on his make-up as the crowd gathers and he nods, smiling and accepting them while being sure to tell everyone that Isaac is the one responsible.

Isaac grabs his arm, squeezing as a beautiful woman in a torn up EMT uniform comes up to them with a smile.

“Hey Isaac.” Her smile is so sweet, complete with dimples, that she still looks pretty despite her make-up that resembles a torn cheek and flopping eye-ball.

“Hey Allison, you look great.” Isaac says and it clicks suddenly.

So _this_ is Allison, the EMT that Isaac is _always_ talking about, when he’s not talking about his boss’ son whose name he refuses to say. Derek can understand how Isaac is smitten with Allison as the two of them continue to make small talk.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met?” She says and Derek jolts a little, drawn back to the conversation.

He smiles and extends his hand. “Hi, Derek Hale.”

She shakes his hand. “Allison Argent. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She reaches out and pats Isaac’s arm. “Isaac talks about you and your friends all the time.”

Derek eyes his friend whose cheeks are turning the slightest bit pink. “Does he? That’s nice to hear. We love Isaac.”

She laughs and winks, making Isaac break into a full blush. “He seems pretty easy to love.”

 _Oh ho ho!_ Derek grins at Isaac and gets a clear _Shut-Up-Or-I-Will-Murder-You_ look in return.

“We’re pretty fond of him.” Derek replies with a shrug.

_“All participants, please make your way to the starting line! All participants, please make your way to the starting line!”_

“Whelp, that’s my cue,” Allison says, looking genuinely sorry to have to leave. “I’ll see you soon, right Isaac?”

“Yeah. Later.” Isaac says, the epitome of polite coolness. As soon as Allison disappears into the crowd, he hits Derek on the arm. “Why do you guys always have to _embarrass_ _me_?!”

Derek smiles and gives Isaac a one-armed hug. “Aw, don’t be that way. We really do love you.”

Isaac frowns, narrowing his eyes, made silvery and glowy by his contacts. “I don’t know that that’s always a good thing.”

Derek snorts, smiling at his friend. “Honestly, me either.”

The Zombie Crawl is successful in that people notice and have various reactions but mostly just clap and point. Some people take their pictures with the competitors. Isaac wins the costume contest and he and Derek take a picture together for Isaac’s Instagram.

Afterward, he and Isaac are cleaning up the parade walk with a few others still in costume. They get close to the library but Derek tries not to dwell, just picking up trash with the rest of them.

A tiny girl, who hurriedly introduces herself as Kira, excitedly asks if she can get some footage of them shambling around so she can put it on her blog. He and Isaac shrug and agree, letting her move far enough across the front of the library that she can get a long shot them approaching her.

Isaac pulls the tube of fake blood from his pocket and reapplies it to Derek before having Derek do the same to him. Derek moves so he can shamble over and join Isaac in the middle, sort of off to one side of the library doors.

They’re pretty close to the doors when the glass moves and Stiles comes out, completely absorbed in his phone. He locks the door, mouth moving as he stares. Derek stops shambling and sort of shuffles because he’s not sure if Stiles has ruined whatever shot Kira wanted.

Isaac holds out his arm as Stiles almost walks right into him, smiling because he’s Isaac and he’s got a strange sense of humor.

Stiles does a double take and Derek can see all the blood drain from his face. He can recognize the crazy gleam in Stiles’ eyes from the pumpkin patch and he moves forward, trying to get to him before he can do too much damage.

He’s not quick enough. He’s a step behind Stiles as the brunet _shrieks_ and socks Isaac right in the nose, sending him to the ground. Derek is stunned at Stiles’ point-blank violence, so he doesn’t move further away, just stands there like an idiot as Stiles’ fist, wrapped around that obnoxiously large phone, heads towards his eye.

The left side of his face is a bright starburst of pain and he stumbles back, cursing lowly at the pain. He hears Isaac groan and Kira shout, “Oh my god! That was _awesome_!”

There’s a beat and then Stiles is dropping to his knees next to Isaac, saying fervently, “Oh my god I am so fucking sorry! Are you okay?”

“Noh.” Isaac’s nose is pouring real blood that mixes with the fake stuff and his voice sounds thick.

“Jesus H. Christ, I am an asshole. I cannot say how sorry I am! Is there someone I can call or, uh, shit, I’m so sorry!” Stiles babbles as Derek moves closer.

“Drehk.” Isaac says, looking past Stiles and locking eyes with Derek.

“Uh, I didn’t get that.” Stiles sounds confused.

“Der-ehk.” Isaac says again, slowly, giving Derek a look like _Seriously?_ Derek rolls his eyes, thinking he could tell Isaac a lot about Stiles’… _Stiles_ - _ness_ …

“Oh, _Derek_ ,” Stiles says and oh god, his name should not sound that good coming out of Stiles’ mouth. Derek shakes his head at himself. “Is that your name?” Stiles asks and Isaac shakes his head as Derek drops next to Stiles, looking at Isaac’s face before glancing at Stiles.

 _Me_ , he thinks, _I’m Derek. Notice me, goddammit._ His gaze is locked on Stiles’ wide brown eyes, pupils a little dilated from fear and adrenaline. He’s trying to pull his gaze away when Isaac gives Stiles his name.

“Isaac.” Stiles says, tone friendly and open. “Nice name. I’m Stiles, asshat extraordinaire, and again, I’m very, terribly sorry I punched you in the face.”

Isaac smiles, Stiles clearly amusing the hell out of him, and replies carefully, “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I think you broke my nose.”

Stiles sighs, shaking his head. “Again, total idiot. Would you like for me to take you to the hospital? I will totally do that.”

Isaac shakes his head and nods at Derek. “Derek can take me.” He looks at Derek and smiles. “If you don’t mind spending a couple more hours with me.”

Derek doesn’t know why Isaac still talks about himself that way, so he brushes it off, reassuring Isaac again, “You _know_ I don’t mind. And we have to pick up my car anyway.” He pulls Isaac up and helps steady him on his feet.

“I know I’ve said it like a million times, but I have to say it again.” Stiles says. “I’m _really_ sorry.”

Isaac claps him on the shoulder. “It’s okay. If zombies ever do attack, I definitely want you on my side.”

Stiles grins. “Thanks man.” He eyes Kira who’s babbling at Isaac about what just happened. Derek’s not paying attention to her, watching the way Stiles moves to leave.

He should leave it alone, he knows, but he can’t. He asks, “Are you not sorry you hit me too?” He immediately regrets it when Stiles turns, looks at him, then gives him an absolutely guiltless grin.

He almost sings, “Maybe you deserved it a little.”

Derek’s mouth drops open a bit and he narrows his eyes. _Un-fucking-believable_. “Are you seriously still upset about the pumpkin? That’s incredibly childish.” _Does it mean he’s been thinking about Derek?_

Stiles moves toward his car, calling over his shoulder, “Then I’m _definitely_ not sorry I hit you.” He gives a foxy grin, fingers tight on the steering wheel and Derek can’t help the tensing of his shoulders. He scowls, frustrated with himself, and turns to help Isaac get away from Kira’s eager chatter.

Derek turns to walk back toward the hospital, wincing at Isaac’s awkward, wet breathing.

Isaac turns to him and grins, blood on his teeth as he says, “He’s cute.” Derek doesn’t reply, so he adds, “Stiles, I mean.”

Derek snorts. “If you like violent absurdity, I guess he is.”

Isaac looks at him, lips quirking. “Hm. Well, at least you had an interesting day today.”

“Interesting like the ancient Chinese curse.” Derek grumbles, pressing gently under his eye. Yep, he’s gonna have a hell of a shiner in the morning.

“You are impossible.” Isaac mutters and nudges Derek’s shoulder.

“I’m not the only one.” He retorts. He lets Isaac think he’s just talking about him but he’s also got an absolutely ridiculous brunet on that list.

Hell, at this point, Stiles pretty much _is_ the list.

And Derek’s _still_ interested. He idly wonders what that says about him but just writes it off since it doesn’t really matter anyway.

~

Stiles regales Scott with the tale of the not-actual-zombies zombies when he gets home.

Scott’s crying with laughter by the end of it but still manages to hit him in the face with a pillow when Stiles points out how cute Isaac is and how gracious and how sweeeeettt…

Stiles admits that the whole situation is pretty funny, even though he managed to hit _The Guy_ in the face too. _Derek_ … hmm…

If his brain uses his new-found knowledge about Derek’s name when he dreams, well, Stiles keeps that part to himself.

\-----

Stiles finally stumbles upon the box that he and Scott have been trying to find for weeks while he’s unpacking stuff from his closet.

“Scotty!” He crows, lifting the decorations out one by one, waving the giant plastic spider at Scott who jumps off of Stiles’ bed with a smile.

“Duuude!” He takes the spider and grabs the leg, swinging and smacking against the wall. The two of them let out screams when it lights up, apparently the batteries still work, and then start laughing at each other.

“Oh my god yes!” Stiles pulls on his old Freddie glove and cackles at Scott, wiggling his fingers.

Scott says in a fearful whisper, “Whatever you do… don’t fall asleep!” He then screams exaggeratedly, rolling over the bed as Stiles snorts.

“Why are you screaming?” Stiles shouts in a rough voice, pulling up his hood and moving toward Scott who grins before darting down the hallway, glancing back and gaping in mock fear. “I haven’t even cut you yet!” Stiles’ laugh is dark as he advances down the hall, slowly wriggling his fingers to hear the metal clink together.

Scott yells, “No! Get away from me, you sick freak!”

Stiles cackles and starts following his friend down the hall, singing, “One, two, Freddie’s coming for you…”

~

It’s a week before Halloween and Derek is ready for it to be done and gone already.

He’s tired of running into fake spider webs at every store, he hates the giant bats everyone puts up, and he’s not really sure why, but he feels like the bone necklace that one of the regulars was wearing the other day is authentic.

All in all, not his favorite holiday, though he loved participating in Mischief Night with Laura when they were younger. Now, it’s just a pain in the ass and he has to clear enough space in his garage to park his car inside, lest some punk ass little shit decide to do something stupid.

He’s pushing boxes around at ten or so, trying to clear it out as quickly as possible – he’s got a new book calling to him – when he hears screaming.

He pauses, listening for a moment, doesn’t hear anything.

“Fucking kids,” he growls, tossing an empty plastic bin toward the wall.

He hears another scream a few minutes later, this time followed by muffled words. He moves to the doors, looking over at the Smith house, but all the windows are dark, which means… _for the love of god._

He turns and sees Scott run down the hall because the idiots still haven’t put in blinds. He’s about to write it off as a too loud movie when he sees Scott look fearfully over his shoulder and hears/sees him shout, “No! Get away from me, you sick freak!”

A figure in a black hood moves slowly down the hall, the light catching a glint of metal in his hand.

Holy fucking shit, Scott’s being attacked.

It’s a testament to Derek’s priorities that his first instinct is to save Scott because it would devastate Stiles if Scott died and his second instinct to do it is because he’s a decent human being. He’s maybe got problems.

He runs over, hearing crashing and a small shout as the back door bursts open and Scott goes scrambling out onto the lawn.

Derek hops the fence where it meets the house, landing quietly and sneaking swiftly up behind the attacker as they advance on Scott, who’s slowly backing away. Scott steps on one of the copious pinecones littering the ground and goes down with a shout.

He clutches at his leg and gasps, “Ah shit, my ankle!”

The attacker pauses and Derek uses the momentary distraction, implementing his mom’s favorite self-defense move and getting the person in an arm lock, forcing them to their knees. It’s a guy’s voice that shouts, “What the fuck man? Get off me!”

 _The voice sounds kind of familiar?_ He’s about to loosen his hold when Scott yells, “Hey! Get off him, you crazy prick!” and hurls himself full-force, hurt ankle forgotten, at Derek.

Derek’s hold on the guy is tight and Scott’s weight throws him into completing the move, dislocating the guy’s shoulder.

As they all go down in a heap, the black hood falls back and Stiles’ pale face is revealed. He pants and curses, clutching at his shoulder. He looks over at Derek and his jaw drops.

“ _Derek?_ What the actual fuck dude? What are you doing here? Is this revenge for last week?” He demands, looking seriously pissed.

Derek is just confused, climbing quickly to his feet. “What the fuck is going on?”

“That’s what I want to know!” Scott shouts, scooting over to sit next to Stiles, checking his shoulder with gentle hands, his own hurt ankle clearly pushed from his mind.

“Why the fuck did you attack me?” Stiles barks, trying to sit up until Scott pushes him back down.

“I thought you were a burglar or something!” Derek says, starting to feel a little stupid.

“What?” Stiles and Scott ask in unison, which is sickeningly fucking adorable, that they’re one of _those couples_. Ugh!

“Scott was shouting and running from someone.” He shrugs. “I’m sorry I hurt you, though I wouldn’t have dislocated your shoulder if _he_ hadn’t thrown himself at me like an idiot.” Derek nods at Scott.

Scott blushes as Stiles looks at Derek, frowning. “Were you spying on us or something?”

Derek sighs, trying to fight off the headache he can feel crawling up his spine from where Scott tackled him. “No, I was not spying on you. I was cleaning out my garage and I heard yelling. I looked over and saw Scott run by followed by someone and I came to help.”

“Big help.” Scott grumbles.

Stiles is still frowning. “Your garage? How did you see Scott run by?”

Derek stills, answering carefully, “I live next door.” Stiles looks completely and utterly shocked. Derek clears his throat and adds, “The blinds are pretty much always pulled up, too, so uh, it’s not hard to see into the house.”

Derek sees the moment Stiles understands and his skin flushes, climbing up his neck and turning his cheeks ruddy. Stiles licks his lips and Derek can’t help but follow the motion of his tongue. Jesus, that _mouth_.

He’s not sure what he would have said next, after all Stiles’ boyfriend is sitting _right there_ , because the sound of sirens approaching fills the air.

All three of them look at each other in horror.

“Shit,” Stiles growls, turning and glaring at the other neighbor’s house where he can see people peeking through the windows. “Nosy bitches.”

Scott pats his hand. “They probably just want to be sure we’re safe.”

“Yeah yeah.” Stiles grumbles, letting his boyfriend soothe him.

Derek shifts, moving to sit on the porch steps, head in his hands as he waits for the police to arrive.

“Do you think…” Scott begins and Derek hears Stiles heave a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, he’ll be here.” Derek doesn’t know who “he” is but Stiles sounds exhausted and a little scared. “He’s probably got the address on alert. Plus my Spidey-sense is tingling.”

Moments after he says that, someone shouts, “Stiles! Scott!”

Both Stiles and Scott wince and Derek guesses the shouting man is who they were waiting for, both smiling sheepishly at the police officer who comes rushing out onto the back porch, taking in the scene quickly with tired blue eyes. Stiles mumbles, “Hey Dad.”

“I don’t know you.” The cop says to Derek, eyes going flinty and cold.

No, not just a cop, Derek sees, _the fucking sheriff_ which means that Stiles must be Stiles _Stilinski_ – what kind of name is that? – and Derek just assaulted the _son of the sheriff_. He tries to keep himself from puking.

“Derek Hale, sir.” He says, trying to appear non-threatening.

“Hm.” Sheriff Stilinski eyes him for a moment longer before turning and barking at the two men on the ground, “What did you two do now?”

“Aw, Dad, really?” Stiles gripes at the same time Scott says, “We were just messing around.”

Sheriff Stilinski holds up his hands, stemming the flow of complaints and excuses. He waves the paramedics forward and points to his son. He then points at Derek. “You, Hale, what happened?”

Derek clears his throat and gives the story as succinctly as possible, trying to make it seem like Scott and Stiles were just playing and that he was the super paranoid one, jumping the gun. It doesn’t stop Sheriff Stilinski from turning a baleful look on the two of them where they’re hunched unhappily in the grass, Stiles trying to wave off the friendly looking paramedic man who’s softly pressing along his arm, though he does seem pleased at the compliment for his Freddie Krueger glove.

“That’s quite a black eye, but clearly not from tonight. How’d you get that, Mr. Hale?” Sheriff Stilinski asks, looking up from his notepad.

Derek’s eyes flick to Stiles who’s staring at him imploringly with those big brown doe eyes and he says, “There was a misunderstanding after the zombie crawl last week. Someone on the street thought my friend and I were actual zombies.”

Sheriff Stilinski snorts, shaking his head. “Yeah, I heard something like that. A nurse got a broken nose.”

Derek nods. “Yeah, that was Isaac.” He sees Scott blush all of a sudden and Stiles stifles a snicker right before the dimpled male paramedic motions at someone and Allison comes out, shooting a surprised smile over at Derek who nods back with a small smile.

She joins her coworker and helps him load Stiles onto a stretcher as he complains, “Ally, really? I don’t need a damn stretcher. I can walk! You’re gonna let her do this, Danny? Come on, man!”

Allison smiles at Scott as she goes by and that makes the man blush harder. What the fuck? He’s got Stiles. Why the fuck is Scott acting like talking about Isaac and seeing Allison is getting him bothered? Stiles isn’t even looking, just dropping into muttering as he’s fully strapped to the stretcher.

“Alright, Mr. Hale, that should be sufficient for now,” Sheriff Stilinski says as Stiles is rolled away behind him, whining loud that he’s fine and he can just pop the shoulder back into place himself. “I’m not a doctor or a nurse, but I recommend you go to the hospital for that bump.” He points to Derek’s head with his pencil.

Derek runs his fingertips over the knot on his head and wishes he hadn’t as his knees almost buckle. God, that fucking hurts. He grimaces and says, “Thank you, Sheriff, I’m definitely thinking that’s a good idea.”

“Go on. I’ll be in touch if I need anything else.” He nods to Derek then turns to run his hand over Stiles’ hair as his son is moved around the house to be put in an ambulance. He points at Scott and says, “Your mother is going to be pissed.”

Scott sighs, waiting as the dimpled man – Danny? – returns to help Scott out front. “I know,” he says as he slings his arm over the other man’s shoulders, “I’m contemplating hurling myself off the roof,” is his dark mumble when he hobbles by Derek.

He’s a little confused but hey, not arrested for assault. Yay! He goes back to his house and gets his keys, wallet, and jacket then goes to the hospital to get checked out.

Derek is sitting in the emergency room, on a bed behind a curtain, listening to the other people nearby, when the curtain around his area is pulled back by Isaac. Derek smiles at his friend. “Your nose looks better.”

Isaac rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” He moves forward and looks at the back of Derek’s head. “You’re just lucky we’ve got a fuller staff around Halloween or you’d be getting checked by Melissa, which is not what you want.”

Derek endures the gentle prodding, asking, “Why wouldn’t I want Melissa? She’s the best, isn’t she?”

Isaac nods, stepping back from him and picking up the clipboard with Derek’s info on it. “She is the best but you got into it with her son and Stiles, who’s practically her other son.”

Derek blinks. “ _Scott_ is her son?”

“Yep.” Isaac’s smile holds a little something extra as he flips through the papers.

And isn’t that sad? They’re both into people who are in a relationship… with each other… He decides not to say that out loud. “So that’s the other one you have a crush on?” Derek asks instead, unable to resist poking fun at his friend who seems to be enjoying the hell out of his situation.

Isaac hits Derek with the clipboard. “Shut up or I will give you a shot in the ass.”

Derek pouts, rubbing his arm. “That’s abuse of power.”

“It’s precisely what power is for,” Isaac retorts as he motions Derek to his feet. “Come on, let’s get that head looked at.”

After all is said and done, Derek’s only got a lump, a massive headache, and a pulled neck muscle but nothing serious. He’s given something for the headache and advised to get rest while a friend calls him every hour to wake him up, just in case.

As Derek leaves, he sees Isaac talking to Scott, both men looking like they’re staring at their feet more than actually speaking, cheeks tinged pink.

“You know, I’m wondering if he’ll finally ask him out.” Stiles’ voice cuts through his growing outrage. Derek glances over to where Stiles is sitting on a bench near the nursing station. “The only person Scott talks about more than Isaac is Allison. I wonder if the three of them could work out together?” He muses and motions Derek over, patting the bench next to him.

Derek wonders what kind of medicine they have Stiles on that makes him so okay with the situation. “Doesn’t it bother you?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Nah, I mean, I’m a little jealous. Who wouldn’t want two attractive people to be into you at the same time? But I know Scott’s always gonna make time for me.”

“I’m really not sure I understand.” Derek informs him.

Stiles turns to him and blinks slowly. “Understand what?”

“You’re okay with your boyfriend being in a relationship with two other people?” Derek admits. He feels like an idiot when Stiles shakes his head.

“I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Oh, I thought Scott…” Derek trails off, surprised at the sudden laughter pouring from Stiles.

“Oh my god that’s – hah hah – oh jesus that’s fucking hil-hilarious!” Stiles is shaking, holding his arm tight against his body.

“I’m not sure why it’s that funny.” Derek says, feeling like an idiot and starting to shift away.

“No, no, I’m sorry.” Stiles says, reaching out and grabbing Derek’s arm. “It’s just, Scott man… we would _never_ be together. He’s,” Stiles waves his hand around like it explains something, “he’s _him_. Never gonna happen.”

Derek feels like a fool. Here he is, pining over Stiles, and thinking he and Scott are a couple and, oh god, what if he doesn’t even like men? “Because he’s _him_?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling. “He’s my best friend and we’re like brothers. It would be so weird.” He shrugs his uninjured shoulder.

“Ah, I see.” Derek says, though he’s still a little confused. They lapse into silence, both watching as Scott and Isaac blush at each other.

“Thank you.” Stiles says suddenly.

“For what?” He asks, not taking his eyes away as Allison approaches the two men with a smile.

“For trying to rescue Scott.” Derek flicks his eyes at him and Stiles is still watching his friend. “I mean, I know it didn’t really go well, but I appreciate the heroics.”

Derek clears his throat, feeling his own cheeks heat up. “Well, I’m sorry I dislocated your shoulder.”

Stiles hums, a smile curling his lips as he keeps his eyes on Scott, Allison, and Isaac. “I’m sorry I attacked you and gave you a black eye.”

Derek’s smile creeps across his mouth and he’s trying not to laugh as he says, “I’m sorry I took your pumpkin. Bryce just drew all over it, didn’t even carve it.”

Stiles finally looks at Derek, mild irritation creasing the skin between his eyebrows. “Seriously? He didn’t even cut it open?”

Derek shakes his head. “I should’ve just let you have it. Your pumpkins look amazing.”

Stiles’ smile goes slightly bashful. “Thanks.”

Derek takes a breath and says, “I really do like the scarf, by the way.”

Stiles drops his eyes, his cheeks tinged pink and clears his throat before saying, “That’s good. I’m, uh, glad, really glad you like it.” He stares at his feet for a second before he says, “I’m really thirsty. Do you think you could help me to the vending machine?”

Derek looks over at Scott, Isaac, and Allison. They don’t look like they’ll be going anywhere any time soon, judging by the smiling and dimpling going on between the three of them.

“Sure.” He stands and holds his hand out to Stiles without thinking about it.

Stiles smiles and threads his fingers through Derek’s, standing slowly. He turns and moves down the hall like he knows where he’s going, which is good, since Derek hasn’t had much cause to visit the hospital.

They reach the vending machine and Stiles groans lowly when he pats his back pocket.

“I got it.” Derek offers, reaching for his wallet.

“It’s cool, man, you don’t have to.” Stiles takes a step away.

Derek holds out a five. “It’s fine. Really.”

Stiles smiles again and Derek has to fight the urge to feel that curve with his mouth. “Thanks.”

Derek shrugs instead of responding, stepping back to let Stiles make his selection of the drinks. A few seconds later, a bottle of orange soda lands in the bottom of the machine. “Here.” Stiles hands him three dollars back and Derek shoves them in his front pocket as Stiles retrieves his soda.

They stand there, smiling at each other in a stretching silence. They’re standing very close to each other and Stiles’ eyes are dark with _something_ , flicking down to stare at Derek’s mouth. Derek isn’t really sure who moves first but suddenly their mouths are pressed together softly.

Derek raises his hand, resting it on Stiles’ side and the other man flinches, pulling away.

It feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He can feel his mouth tightening and he drops his hand back to his side, his eyes to the floor.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles before pushing past Stiles and walking away as quickly as he can without actually running.

He gets out to his car and slides into the driver’s seat, cursing himself for his stupidity. Just because Stiles was maybe interested in men didn’t mean he was interested in _Derek_. He honestly doesn’t know if he kissed Stiles or Stiles kissed him but Stiles is doped up on pain meds and not thinking clearly and if he actually _wanted_ Derek, he wouldn’t have flinched like that and…

Derek slams his hands against the steering wheel before he starts the car and peels out of the parking lot.

When he gets home, he pointedly closes his blinds and curtains, not wanting any more glimpses of… _anything_.

He falls face first into the bed, only turning a little to set an alarm to go off in an hour. He doesn’t feel like having anyone call him, even if it’s to make sure he doesn’t have a concussion.

He’s still awake, staring at his ceiling miserably when the alarm goes off. He sets it again and he’s awake for that one too.

He gives up on getting any sleep and goes to the kitchen to make some coffee. He texts Erica and lets her know he won’t be coming in to work today and risks a glance out the kitchen window.

All the blinds are down, covering every window that faces his house.

He feels like throwing up.

~

Stiles clutches at his side where his pulled muscle pulses from the pressure of Derek’s hand.

He stares down the hall at Derek’s retreating back, feeling like a giant asshole because he literally made someone _run away_ by kissing them.

He slumps against the vending machine and lets out a low whine. They were maybe on the way to being sort-of friends and he messed it all up. He’s such a fucking _idiot_.

He’s not wallowing in his misery very long before Scott rounds the corner on crutches and says brightly, “Hey! There you are!”

Stiles waves with the hand holding his orange soda, the drink feeling like a weird symbol as it weighs heavily in his hold. He covers his misery with a bright smile, “Hey man, done flirting?”

Scott narrows his eyes at him but responds cheerily, “I’m ready to go home. Isaac said he’ll give us a lift.”

“Cool.” Stiles pulls himself upright and follows Scott back down the hall, his stomach a pit of frustration and maybe a little sadness.

Not even watching Scott and Isaac flirt on the way back to the house is enough to make him feel better. He can’t help but glance over at Derek’s dark house as he climbs out of the car. He tears his eyes away.

“Thanks for the ride, Isaac.” He says, clapping Isaac gently on the shoulder.

The blonde smiles, shrugging. “It’s not a problem.”

Stiles laughs, despite his shitty mood. “I’m sure.” The other two men look a little embarrassed and he can’t help but grin.

Scott mumbles, “Stiles” in his most exasperated tone and Stiles smiles, jerking his thumb toward the front door.

“I’m gonna go inside now. Have a good night.” He makes his way inside, walking down the hall to his room before he pauses in the hallway, looking at the windows and the full view they give of what he now knows is Derek's house.

He starts yanking at the cords to drop the blinds, getting frustrated when they tangle and drop lop-sided. His teeth are gritted and his eyes are burning and he jumps when Scott’s hand lands gently on his.

He looks into Scott’s face and sees sympathy and a little confusion. “What’s going on, dude?”

Stiles takes a few breaths, trying to calm down, and ends up spewing the entire thing to Scott who just stands there, blinking before he nods slowly.

“Okay. I got this. Back up, okay.” He hands Stiles his crutches and hops to the windows, closing the blinds properly before moving toward Stiles’ bedroom. He closes those blinds too, pulling the curtains over the white lines and turning to Stiles with a smile.

“Better?”

Stiles nods, feeling exhausted and stupid.

“I’m gonna get ready to sleep and we’re gonna crash in my bed because it’s bigger and I need to make sure you don’t hurt yourself in your sleep.”

Stiles nods again, so thankful for his best friend. “Okay.” He begins the painful process of undressing himself and redressing himself in gym shorts, too tired and sore to bother with a t-shirt.

When he gets to Scott’s room at the opposite end of the hall, Scott’s sitting on his bed and messing with his phone. He looks up with a smile and pats the other side of the bed. “Come on. Time to sleep.”

They settle in, just like when they were little, and Scott flicks off the lamp.

In the settled darkness of the room, Stiles asks, “So, what’s the deal with you three?”

Scott huffs and shifts a little, settling further into his pillows. “Allison, Isaac, and I are going to a movie tomorrow afternoon.”

Stiles grins, happy for him. “That’s awesome, dude.”

“Yeah. I’m a little nervous.” Scott confesses lowly.

“You’ll be fine. They both like you a lot and they should. You’re the absolute best, Scotty McCall.”

Scott laughs a little. “Thanks man. You’re the best too.”

“Yeah.” He doesn’t voice any of his pathetic thoughts, he just mumbles, “Love you, bro.”

Scott’s jaw cracks in a yawn as he says, “Love you too. Good night.”

"Night." Stiles lets the pain meds take him under into what he hopes is a dreamless sleep.

\-----

Two weeks later, during their traditional Sunday Breakfast, he gets an email alerting him that the pumpkin spice lattes will only be available for another week. He frowns and returns to his cereal.

“What’s the matter?” Scott asks blearily, only half-awake and rubbing his eyes as he eats his usual Cinnamon Toast Crunch and Froot Loops mix.

“It’s almost time…” Stiles mutters. “The Great Age of Pumpkin is coming to an end.” He makes his voice haunted, “And then…”

Scott whispers, “The Dark Times... peppermint everything.”

They smile at each other and Scott adds, “You should get one every day this week, to last you until they come back.”

Stiles shrugs, chasing the brightly colored marshmallows around his bowl with his spoon. “I guess. It gets expensive when you go every day though.”

“I think you deserve it.” Scott says, looking adorable as he concentrates on getting one Froot Loop for every piece of cinnamon cereal in every bite.

“Thanks man.” Stiles says, nudging him under the table, careful not to jostle his almost-healed ankle.

That week, he follows Scott’s advice and gets a pumpkin spice latte every day. He uses the drive-thru every morning rather than have to get out of his car because he’s lazy and plus, he thinks the kid that works the window is hilarious.

He’s got some extra time to kill the following Saturday morning – the last day that his beautiful nectar is available – and the drive-thru line is almost fourteen cars long so he decides not to be a total slug and goes inside.

When he and the cashier recognize each other, both of their faces drop.

“Oh my god.” He blurts, mouth falling open. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Derek looks like he’s trying not to reach across the counter and choke him. He says in a semi-calm voice, “I work here.”

Stiles can _not_ believe his luck. He’s come to this Starbucks almost every day for the past few months and never seen Derek _once_ and it has to happen _now_ of all times? He blurts out, “The fuck you do.” Which, seriously, what the _fuck_ , Stiles?

Derek’s eye twitches and Stiles rolls his eyes, snorting. He at least can take joy in pissing Derek off now – it hurts less. It works. Derek growls, “Order something or get out of my face.”

Stiles isn’t sure if a happy dance is in order or if he should go lie down in a corner after successfully and  _completely_ alienating one of the most frustrating and attractive people he’s ever met. As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough at the hospital...

He sighs, feeling suddenly defeated, and mumbles, “Venti pumpkin spice latte, extra hot, with whip.” He pulls a ten out of his wallet, drops it on the counter and adds, “Please.”

Turning away, he retreats to the farthest corner of the sitting area, one where he won’t be able to see the baristas at all. He knocks the back of his head against the wall once, twice.

“What the fuck man?” He hisses quietly at himself. “You’re the one who upset him. Don’t feel hurt now. You made your fucking bed. Suck it up.”

He stops talking to himself as the blonde barista rounds the corner, her long braid falling forward over her shoulder as she places his drink gently on the table in front of him. She smiles, a genuine red curve, and says, “Enjoy honey.”

He smiles back at her, unable to help it, and picks up the cup, inhaling the sweet heaviness of pumpkin and cinnamon as he walks outside and down the sidewalk. After a couple minutes, he takes a tiny sip and sighs, popping the lid off the cup to see if there’s any whipped cream on it because it doesn’t really taste like there is.

He blinks when he sees two very deliberate hearts shaped in the foam, a little lopsided from his sipping. He stares for who knows how long before he snaps.

He spins on his heel, spending only a millisecond thinking that the heart-latte could have come from the female barista before dismissing it because it _has_ to be Derek. It has to be or Stiles will _fucking scream_ because all he’s been able to think about since the hospital is _that kiss_.

That kiss and _those eyes_. Especially how those eyes had dropped, that mouth had tightened, that warm, broad hand had fallen away from his side…

When he gets to the counter and puts his cup down, the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “What?”

The ‘what’ pertains to pretty much _every_ _single_ interaction they’ve had but when Derek quirks his eyebrow, Stiles points at the foam hearts and crosses his arms over his chest so that it’s less obvious that his hands are shaking.

Stiles’ heart is pounding and he feels like he may throw up. He holds his breath, envisioning the possibilities, the potential that could come from such nonsense and misunderstandings – the potential to develop into laughter, maybe, and grudging admiration before moving onto something more…

All his thoughts slam to a stop as Derek frowns and snaps, “I didn’t do that.”

_Well, shit._

~

Derek’s Saturday morning shift is going along fine, nothing out of the ordinary besides feeling like total shit but that’s been the norm for the past few days. He finishes writing the signs for a caramel macchiato onto a cup, sets it down, and comes face to face with Stiles.

“Oh my god.” Stiles blurts, mouth hanging open, and _goddammit_ why does he still find that so sexy? What is _wrong_ with him? “What the hell are you doing here?”

Derek tries to reign in the urge to hit Stiles. Then kiss him. He manages to evenly say, “I work here.” Good job, Derek, controlling your impulses. +5 points.

“The fuck you do.”

Derek’s eye twitches. He’s about to lose those points. He tries to manage a pleasant facial expression and Stiles rolls his eyes, snorting. Yep, the points are tossed out the window as he growls, “Order something or get out of my face.”

Stiles _sighs_ , a heavy sound, and mumbles, “Venti pumpkin spice latte, extra hot, with whip.” He pulls a ten out of his wallet, drops it on the counter and adds in a tired voice, “Please.”

Turning away, Stiles moves along the wall then around the corner into the small alcove by the door that leads to the patio, slipping out of sight.

Derek groans, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. When he opens his eyes, Erica is looking at him, one eyebrow quirked, red lips a thoughtful pucker.

“He’s the guy from the pumpkin patch,” she says, frowning as she continues, “and he must be the one who freaked out on you and Isaac during the zombie crawl.” She taps her fingers against the cup as she makes the drink Stiles ordered. “Which means he’s also the one who was acting like a horror movie heroine and ended up at the hospital...”

“Scott was the heroine.” Derek corrects before he sighs, knowing there’s really nothing he can hide from Erica at this point. “Stiles gave me the scarf too.”

Her sigh holds so many things she doesn’t need to say. Derek knows already. “Anything else?” She asks sarcastically.

 _No… ugh, yes._ He has to add in a rush of words, “Then we kissed at the hospital and I guess it freaked him out because he flinched and I freaked out and ran and ever since I’ve been ignoring him.”

She barks out a laugh. “Jesus fuck, Der, what the hell is _wrong_ with you?”

He drops his head in his hands and moans piteously, “I don’t _know_.”

She clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “Well, I won’t make you take his drink to him, though I gotta give him credit for not just leaving when faced with your absolutely stunning charm.” She shoots him a hard look and walks around the corner with the cup.

She comes back and doesn’t say anything else, just starts making an order that pops up from the drive-thru as Stiles slips out the door silently without another look. It’s business as usual until about ten minutes later when Stiles rips the door open and stomps up to the counter.

“What?” Stiles demands, placing his cup on the counter.

Derek has no idea what to go on with just a single word and raises an eyebrow.

Stiles points firmly at the two lop-sided hearts shaped into the foam of the latte and quirks his own eyebrow back, crossing his arms.

Derek sees Erica turn away to hide a smile and he grits his teeth, frustrated. He thinks back to when Isaac said he wasn’t sure their friends loving them was always a good thing and suddenly cannot agree more.

He tries not to scowl as he says, “I didn’t do that.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” Stiles drops his arms, looking confused, _really_ confused, and almost _hurt_?

 _Dammit_ _dammit_ _dammit_.

A brief wave of hysteria sweeps over Derek before he just says _fuck it_ and blurts out, “Would you like to have dinner with me?”

Stiles blinks those big brown eyes at him and the corner of his mouth twists. “You know what…”

_Oh god, here it is, The Rejection – not that it’s surprising. You’ve been a total dick to him every time you’ve seen him – well, except the last time which ended soooo well oh jesus Erica whyyy did you have to –_

Stiles continues, “Yes, I really would.”

It takes him a moment to pull himself out of his self-deprecation spiral and understand Stiles’ answer but when he does, Derek can’t help his smile. “Okay. Tonight at seven? My place?”

Stiles smiles too. “I’ll be there. Luckily, I know where you live,” he says and then _winks_.

Derek swallows hard. “You’re, uh, not allergic to shellfish or anything, right?” Derek _has_ to ask, even though he feels like an idiot when Stiles’ mouth twitches and he shakes his head. He hears Erica snickering but he ignores her.

“Nah, I can eat pretty much anything.” He frowns suddenly and shudders. “Except raw tomatoes. Those are a no-go.”

“Good, that’s… good.”

Stiles smiles at him one more time then picks up his drink. “I have to go into work for a bit.” Stiles calls as he heads to the door, a wicked smile curving his lips. “I’ll see you later.”

Derek raises his hand in agreement, a smile quirking his own lips, and waits until Stiles disappears down the street before whirling on Erica. He says a genuine, “Thank you” before he sprays her with the hose from the sink.

The freckled teenager working the drive through just sighs, completely used to their antics, and utters into the headset as he watches Derek and Erica pelt each other with various items, “Thank you for choosing the Beacon Hills Starbucks, this is Greenburg. What can I get started for you today?”

Derek loses the battle – Erica dumps a full cup of ice water down the back of his shirt – but he’s still got a huge smile on his face as she does a victory dance.

Because he’s got a date tonight with his very cute and extremely infuriating neighbor and he’s feeling like maybe doing a victory dance too.

\-----

The second time he kisses Stiles, it’s a lot better than the first time.

He can taste the distinct flavors of pumpkin and cinnamon on Stiles’ tongue and he thinks he maybe likes Fall just a _little_ bit after all

\-----

_One Year Later_

Stiles leans his hips against the porch rail and looks out into the back yard.

“Yes, yes, it’s all coming together…” he intones, steepling his fingers before chuckling darkly. He jumps as arms slip around his waist. He doesn’t jump, though, when soft lips, framed with familiar stubble, press against the side of his neck.

“Are you using your ‘evil villain’ voice again?” The question is teasing but the tone is definitely more amused than mocking.

Stiles laughs, his regular laugh, and grips onto Derek’s arms. “There’s finally enough leaves, Der.” He leans his head back and catches a whiff of coffee, like usual.

Derek had started his own little coffee shop five months ago with Erica and the place is a total hit. Derek always comes home smelling like coffee and sugar and just plain delicious-Derek-ness.

“Enough leaves for what?” Derek prompts and keeps kissing him, drawing up to the back of his ear, then down to the junction of his neck and shoulder. He has to fight not to shudder.

“To rake up and jump in. You should know, you’re an expert.” Derek stiffens and Stiles continues, petting Derek’s arms to soothe him and says, “I definitely saw you last year.”

Derek groans and drops his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder. “Oh my god.”

Stiles laughs and turns in Derek’s hold, cupping his face. “I thought then, and still do, that it was one of the single most precious things I’d ever seen. The only other thought I had about it was that I was so jealous because our yard didn’t have the right kind of trees for a good leaf pile.”

They both glance over at the neighboring yard and house where Stiles used to live. Scott still lives there but now Isaac _and_ Allison live there too and, from what Stiles has seen, the three of them are ridiculously happy.

“That’s the real reason I moved in with you, you know.” Stiles continues breezily, gesturing to the yard. “So I could have a good and proper leaf pile to jump into.”

Derek growls and bites the tip of his nose, gently despite the impressive sound. “Is that so?”

Stiles’ grin is all snark. “Yep.” Popping the ‘p’, he turns and saunters down to the grass, grabbing one of the rakes he’d gotten from the garage earlier for himself. “Let’s get started on the pile already. We’re losing daylight.” He smirks up at the beautiful man frowning playfully down at him and points at the other rake.

Derek rolls his eyes and tromps down the stairs, grabbing the tool from the ground and swatting him on the ass with the handle.

When they do finally get the leaves into a pile, Derek shows him that the only thing more fun than jumping into a giant pile of leaves with his Now-Not-So-Elusive-Still-Adorable-Only-An-Asshole-Sometimes-Not-Really-A-Zombie-Valiant-Hero-Neighbor is making out with his ridiculously sexy _boyfriend_ in said pile of leaves.

Seriously, Stiles _fucking_ _loves_ Fall.

**Author's Note:**

> FYI - I am Stiles in this - total idiot for ALL things Fall.
> 
> Anyways! Did you love it?! Tell meee!!!
> 
> kisskiss  
> ♡ Scotch
> 
> p.s. come hang out with me on [tumblr](damnfancyscotch.tumblr.com) ;D


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